


Losing It

by Skeppers14



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Smp, M/M, Skephalo, im new here so idk tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeppers14/pseuds/Skeppers14
Summary: BadBoyHalo is giving up everything he has to this egg. How much longer until he has nothing left to lose?Egg arc fanfiction
Relationships: Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	Losing It

Bad stood with his hand pressed against the fluid surface. A warm, dry, almost dusty texture that spread a sort of pollen onto anything that touched it. The perfect way to spread anything, plant or disease. He let the dust powder the skin of his hand along with the edge of his sleeve. A slight golden shimmer bounced from it in a certain light. The dust looked otherwise red, perfect to use as a dye for his clothes. 

Bad stared down at the clothes he wore. The same black cloak as always, but it lacked the red accents it used to have. The ones Skeppy had helped him sew on back when he first got the outfit. It was black and white when Skeppy gifted it to him. A bit too plain for his liking. He reminisced in the memory. The look on Skeppy’s face as they had patched the white over with red fabric. It looked nice. The meaning and memory behind it had made red his favorite color. 

_ Perhaps it didn’t matter now.  _ The egg had told him to tear the red fabric from the seams. The few hours the boys had spent that day stitching it together carefully had gone to waste, but the egg was the egg, Bad had to listen. He stripped his favorite cloak of all red fabric, as the egg had told him it would strip it of the color had he not listened. The red fabric was placed into a small box that was kept securely in Bad’s ender chest. Part of him knew that someday he would be able to stitch it back on.

He smiled fondly at the memory, not caring too much about having torn the color off. The cloak was still a gift from Skeppy. That was all that truly mattered. He looked down at what he had unconsciously habitualized. Anytime he was near the egg, he would take the red dust and pollen from the vines and spread it onto the white bits of his clothes. It looked slightly different to the way the old fabric would, but nobody noticed, and if they did, they didn’t say anything. 

Each morning, Bad did something of a ritual. He would come down to the egg as soon as he woke up, careful not to let anyone see him before he had completed his task. Upon arriving, he would carefully use the pollen as a dye on the fabric, allowing him to disguise himself. By the end of each day, as people would brush past him or borrow his items, the dust would collect on them, leaving Bad’s clothes faded. At the end of each night, he would shake the dust off the cloak onto any dying vines, working like a fertilizer to keep the life pumping through them. 

It was genius, so Bad wasn’t mad that the egg had him take the fabric off of where it had been. But he still wasn’t entirely happy with it. Bad quickly finished brushing the pollen onto his clothes, looking down at it, content with how it looked. An ender chest sat in the middle of the chamber, reminding him once again of the scraps that sat inside.  _ Not fully on board.  _ One of the things that reminded him of Skeppy, many of the things, had been stripped from him one by one. The egg promised him the return of his best friend, but only ever seemed to take more and more of the memories of him. 

The egg had been muttering in his ear the entire time, but Bad hadn’t been paying any attention. With his focus elsewhere, he had heard what anyone else might hear. Harsh whispers in a special language. It took a few seconds for even those fluent in it to translate, but Bad had not been listening. A sharper, louder whisper hit his ears. A single word he understood, not in the egg’s language, but in English… If you could consider it English. It was merely his name.  _ Bad!  _ It said. He shook his head and looked up at the egg. “Sorry… I’ve been distracted… What were you saying?” 

It continued to mutter in it’s odd, foreign tongue, taking Bad a few seconds to understand. As he continued listening, it became easier and easier to understand the more he focused. “Don’t worry,” he said at last. “I’ll gather more today. I have two people in mind to convert!”

_?t’nod yeht fi dnA _ _ ¿  _ It asked him.  _ And if they don’t?  _ “If they don’t,” he continued. “I’ll drag them down here and let you eat them!” The egg let out a pleased sound, almost like a laugh. The sound felt like praise, making Bad smile. He thought of his plans for the day. One person would be easy to bring down, but another made things much more difficult. The person in question?  _ Quackity.  _

He avoided the egg at all costs now, hardly even speaking to Bad. If Quackity joined the Eggpire, Bad would be able to talk to him more. Maybe even convince the egg he was worthy of having Skeppy back…  _ I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t deserve him yet.  _ The egg went back to mumbling to Bad, who went on listening and talking to it. He was mid sentence when he heard a sound behind him. One of the tendrils of the egg lifted up and turned Bad around. It pointed at a person emerging from the vines. 

It was Quackity. He looked angry. “Finally came to your senses?” Bad asked. “Ready to join us?” He put on his most confident voice, but part of him waivered. A small part of him still stayed in his mind, suppressed by the pollen clouding his mind.  _ This is wrong.  _ But that part was, as said, suppressed. Each day, it would get quieter and quieter. 

“I would never!” He spat. “Listen to me, Bad! You’re making a mistake.”

Bad only smirked at him, the pollen fully clouding his doubt. “You just don’t understand, Quackity!” Bad tried to make his voice sound convincing. He sure was convincing himself. Each word spoken made him more and more confident. 

“Bad,” Quackity said. “You need to snap out of it!” He grabbed Bad’s hands, pulling him off the vine he stood on. “You need to stop before you hurt yourself and everyone else!” Bad stared into Quackity’s eyes. The dark brown color reminded him of someone. The way he had once stared into Skeppy’s eyes. 

As he glanced around Quackity’s face, the details seemed to shift. His dark colored beanie seemed to fade into a light blue. His harsh and angry facial expression melted into a cheerful one. Bad felt confused until he realized who’s face he was looking at.  _ Skeppy.  _ The person who stood in front of him was Skeppy. He was smiling as if Bad had told him a funny joke or said something stupid. His eyes were mostly shut and a wide grin spread across his face. The longer strands of his dark hair fell into his face. 

Bad felt his emotions taking over, clearing the pollen from his mind. He almost smiled too, but Skeppy’s smile faded. The cheerful face that was in front of him faded back into Quackity. It was Quackity standing there with a horrible, angry expression. “Snap. Out. Of. It.” He repeated, slower this time, the anger still very heavy in his voice. 

Bad blinked a few times, confused of why his face felt hot and stung slightly. It took him a few seconds to register the fact that Quackity had hit him. Without meaning to, another memory flashed into his mind. Quackity was replaced by Skeppy once again. They stood on the prime path, talking casually, before a serious tone replaced the light feeling in the air. “Me or the egg, Bad.” Skeppy demanded. 

“I don’t see why I have to choose! I have both of you!”

Skeppy frowned. “When it comes down to it, will it be me or the egg?”

Bad heard his own voice trying to shout after Skeppy, as he had begun to run in the opposite direction. “It would be you! I’d choose you!”

“You’re too late, Bad.” He remembered Puffy’s words clearly. She had said exactly that to him that day, but this time, it wasn’t Puffy saying it. 

“You’re going to be too late,” Quackity spoke with an even tone. “So what will it be, Bad?” 

Bad hadn’t heard what Quackity had been saying, too absorbed in his memories, but he braced himself for what he’d say next. “Is it Skeppy or the egg, Bad?”

He knew that question was coming, but somehow it hit him harder than he expected. The memories replayed in his mind. He knew what to say. Why was it so hard to just spit it out? Bad opened his mouth, trying to speak, but the pollen clouded his mind once again, forcing the memories out. The egg’s voice was very prominent in his mind, speaking English.  _ Listen to me and I’ll return your friend. You need to earn it, BadBoyHalo.  _ He shuddered at the way the egg spoke his name. 

The dusty cloud that surrounded his mind made his vision foggy.  _ I need to earn it.  _ He shut his mouth. The thoughts he had allowed through, thoughts from the old him, dissipated. The last idea that he should answer Quackity’s question with ‘Skeppy’ was gone in an instant. “It’s the egg,” he said, a slight bitter taste formed in his mouth. “It will always be the egg, Quackity.”

As the words left his tongue, the tiny, little, suppressed part of his mind went into full blown panic. He had said that. There was no taking it back. And the longer he waited, the tiny bit that was left of Bad and his memories grew smaller and smaller. Part of him feared he would lose himself completely one day.  _ Or maybe he just had.  _

**Author's Note:**

> This story wasn't originally meant to be uploaded to the internet, but after a few friends told me it was good, I decided I'd upload it. My first one on AO3 because I usually use wattpad, but I hope it was enjoyable.


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